The Guard
by deanne394
Summary: Every night Fenris followed her home. A silent guard for her. Neither of them knows why he does it, all they know is someone is going to break.
1. Chapter 1

He remains outside her window until she sleeps, waiting. For what, neither is sure.

She knew he was there. He was always there, just outside her estate. He never knocked at the door, never made a move to show that he was there, but he was. It had always been so for as many years as she had known the white haired elf. He had started the night he met her, she guessed that he'd come along just to judge whether or not he could trust the rogue with the apostate sister.

He never stopped coming to rest just outside her home. At first it was at Gamlen's stupid hovel, where she and Bethany had had to share a room, then at the Amell (now Hawke) estate.

He stayed until she fell asleep, according to Bethany who always had a more difficult time falling asleep than her sister, and left immediately after.

At first it had disturbed her, to think that someone was just standing out there, out of sight, but after awhile she made a game of it. She would feign sleep to see if she could trick him into believing she was asleep, so he would leave early; she failed every time. Somehow he always knew.

It became second nature for her to use her rogue senses each night, now that she was used to his presence it made it easier to sense him, now she makes certain he really is there, then closes her eyes and deepens her breathing.

What she doesn't understand was why he continues to do it. She's long since gained his trust, and she knew that he wasn't staying there simply to guard her from anyone or thing that would come for her in the night; he _knew_ she was more than capable of dispatching anything that came for her.

It absolutely _vexed_ her not to know why he came back every time.

Not that she wasn't glad he did- it was comforting for her to know he was there. Hawke knew full well why it brought her such comfort. She'd long since fallen for the elf.

Every glance of his green eyes, which she could never read.

Every shift of his muscles when he was uncomfortable, or angry.

Every movement of his lips.

He drove her to such distraction that she'd been nearly killed time and time again, and it was only an angry Anders, or terrified Bethany, that brought her back from the brink.

Hawke was certain that her companions knew of her infatuation with the lyrium branded Fenris. They undoubtedly had no qualms about telling her they were aware of her secret.

Bethany had been aware of her attraction to Fenris from the beginning, being her sister and closest confidant, and when she had been taken to the circle, Bethany wrote regularly to find out if she'd acted upon her feelings yet. Luckily, her sister was the least embarrassing of her companions, and she was able to really confide in the mage.

Anders pretended not to notice, blocking out all thoughts of her with someone else, as his love for her grew more every day. She _hated_ how he admired her, as she knew that she would only break his heart if he acted upon his feelings. He was too _obvious_, too... _Anders_. The only thing he managed to speak of was the plight of the mages, and Hawke did not entirely agree with his viewpoint on how mages should be treated. He wanted too much- she just couldn't see how another Tevinter would improve anyone's lot in life.

Varric smirked at her when he caught her staring at the unaware Fenris, which seemed to be happening more often than before. He had his subtle way of teasing her with words, it was lucky for Hawke that only Isabela seemed to catch the dwarf's clever innuendo.

Merrill, the most oblivious of the group, had whispered into her ear one day, saying that she really ought to tell Fenris that she loved him, because they would make an _adorable_ couple. Hawke had not been able to look at Fenris for a day because of the innocent comment from the dark haired elf.

Sebastian, who seemed to be as naïve as Merrill, had made it very clear to her that she should be careful, because Fenris could end up breaking her heart.

After his little speech, Sebastian had looked around guiltily, and said to her in an almost offhand way, 'And Hawke, intimacy before marriage is a sin in the eyes of the Maker'.

Hawke had spluttered and turned red. Sebastian turned away, his chuckles shaking his shoulders as he walked away from her shocked form, leaving her with the impression that perhaps the man was not so innocent as he appeared to be.

Aveline said nothing, and simply looked at Hawke in that knowing way of hers. Maker how Hawke hated that knowing gaze- she'd given the same one to Aveline upon learning about Donnic; but to have it turned on her- _maddening_!

Isabela, in contrast to Aveline, tended to make inappropriate remarks to Fenris whenever Hawke was in the area, simply to ignite her jealousy and make her seethe. She was trying to push Hawke to make her move on Fenris, and Hawke was aware of the tactic and tried to ignore her words… but _Maker_. Just that morning Isabela had commented that many Magisters had their slaves oiled for them, so that they would glisten.

Neither Isabela nor Hawke was able to concentrate fully for the rest of the day. The image was… well- She'd shot Isabela angry glares all day long, for putting the image in her head. Again her companions' comments had left Hawke unable to look Fenris in the eyes.

Now she walked home from a long day of killing slavers and blood mages, but she was not as alone as she looked at first glance. Fenris followed her on the rooftops, silently protecting her from anyone and anything, just as he had for the past three years.

Before she knew it, Hawke was home. To her surprise, there had been no unexpected attacks, nobody asking her to help them, and no screaming innocents just waiting for her to help them. Hawke approached the door of her home, which was engraved with the Amell family crest, and before entering whispered, "Goodnight, Fenris."

None but Fenris would have heard her, his elven ears catching more than a human's, or even Merrill's, could ever.

Each night she dismissed him at her door, hoping that he would go home to rest, hoping that he would stay with her until she fell asleep. He always stayed, and this night was no different.

Before falling into bed Hawke wrote a few words into her journal, 'Slavers. Blood mages. Isabela flashing everyone. A normal day, really.' She was too tired to write more, and finally she lay down.

She fell asleep almost immediately, her hair an endearing mess upon her pillow, her armor strewn about in a careless heap- though her precious daggers had been placed carefully on the desk beside her journal.

Hawke awoke only a half-hour later. Her breathing came in deep gasps, her skin shiny with the cooling sweat on her skin, the dim firelight highlighting the gleam. She was confused, what had she dreamt to stir such a reaction in her?

"Strange," She said aloud to herself and the room.

"_Strange _is not the word I would use." Hawke was out of her bed and diving to her daggers before the words, and the voice with a deep timber, registered in her mind. It was a familiar rumble, one that had made her weak in the knees far too many times to count.

"F-Fenris…" It was odd to hear herself stutter, she was so normally composed. It seemed to most people that nothing could shake her sarcastic rogue poise. He sat on a bench that had been pushed into the corner covered in shadow. He leaned back against the wall watching her.

"What are you-" Hawke did not finish her question, for that was the moment she realized she was naked as the day she'd been born. Fenris said nothing, and simply observed her flesh, completely cool. The look in his eyes said everything of his pleasure at seeing her exposed.

Hawke's face flushed, and she strode quickly to the bed to pull the sheet over herself. _Maker_, why did he have such an effect on her? Had it been Varric she'd have laughed!

"What are you doing here?" She said, taking a deep breath to steady her words.

"I had thought, for a time, that you were in love with the _abomination_," The words were not an answer to her question, but the beginning of something else entirely. Hawke's brows rose in surprise, she'd thought she'd made it obvious as to where her affections lay; she'd thought that her _friends_ had made it obvious. Before she had a chance to deny it, he carried on, his hair barely swaying with the small motions of his body.

"You spent such an extraordinary amount of time with him- always brought him on your adventures, never argued with him. I never saw you explicitly flirt with him- but I thought perhaps you did so in private. The fact that I never saw you look at him quite the right way, never heard him brag about your relationship- it gave me hope."

Hawke inhaled sharply, her grip on the sheet covering her tightening, her limbs growing heavy. She stared at him from her spot beside the bed. "I never argued with him because I knew it would end up in his death- I would have killed him for spouting idiocy at me. It is difficult enough hearing him speaking of it to others."  
He leaned forward, resting his chin thoughtfully on his still-gauntleted hands; His face finally appearing in the firelight. The sharp edges of his pointer finger tapped lightly on his chin.

"Of course, your companions quite encouraged that hope-" He ignored her answer, "Varric's attempts at subtlety failed, Isabela's flirting was obviously directed to make you angry. One day Sebastian told you that intimacy before marriage was a sin." Hawke looked away in momentary embarrassment, while Fenris' half smirk made a brief appearance, "He was unable to look at me the rest of the day. His ears flamed red every time his gaze fell upon you. Each act firmed my belief that you might be interested in me. But, of course, I could never be certain."

Her throat tightened with every word, he was… receptive to her? He truly did want her? "Fenris," She said, trying to speak words that seemed almost stuck in her throat. What if she was wrong?

Fenris stopped her by standing. His gait was slow; he sauntered to a spot just before her, where he was almost touching her.

He locked his gaze purposefully with hers; and bent forward to ghost his lips against Hawke's. "I wasn't certain. Not until tonight." If it were possible, Hawke would say his voice was huskier than usual; a sound that made her eyes slam shut in anticipation.

"Fenris," She moaned wanting to feel his lips. He shuddered in his place.

"Do you want to know why Hawke? Why tonight confirmed everything I wished for?" She nodded. "Because tonight you said goodnight to me. You wrote in your journal. You fell asleep. Your usual routine- and I was about to leave," He continued whispering against her lips; torturing them both with the almost contact, "When you _moaned_ my name in your sleep." The way he said moaned broke her constraint, who could resist that elf and his _maker-damned_ husky voice, she propelled herself forward to connect their lips.

It was not a soft kiss- but then Hawke was anything but a delicate girl. She appreciated the way he bit her lip hard enough to bruise, perhaps even draw blood- the way his lips dominated her making them mold to whatever he wished. Fenris' tongue darted out to her lips, to soothe the bite, and she opened her mouth automatically earning her a breathy chuckle. His arms wrapped around her waist, and it was as if he'd never let go, sending a thrill through her body.

She pressed herself tightly against him, making him stumble so that his back hit the bedpost hard. Hawke's fingers finally tangled into his soft white hair- as they had ached to do for so many years. She tugged at the strands lightly, inducing a growl from deep in Fenris' throat. "You… need a haircut," She groaned.

He released her hips, where he had had a firm grip, and tugged at her bed sheet. The sheet fell to the floor when she pulled back from their connecting liplock for a breath.

"Please," She said, releasing his hair and tugging at the armor that was cold against her bare skin, "_Please_ Fenris."

"Shh, now my Hawke… No need to beg," He grinned ferally, "We have to save that for another night." He pushed her back and worked at the buckles on his black armor.

"Ngh!" Hawke protested, speech being beyond her for the moment. She violently smashed herself against the armor, and tugged at the leather leggings clinging to the elf's legs. "Now. _Now_, Fenris!" Patience, _not_ one of the Hawke family virtues.

His pupils had dilated enough to nearly cover the green of his eyes, and as Hawke tore at his leggings, Fenris managed to slip the armor over his head.

"Here I thought I was in control of this."

Hawke chuckled throatily at him, "You thought wrong," She whispered.

Hawke managed to lower his leggings only far enough to expose him to her. He didn't give her a chance to see him, as he spun them around to smash her against the bedpost, and slammed his lips against hers. His hips connected to hers and she rubbed herself against him- skin on skin. The friction was… earth shattering.

Her head spun at the contact that she'd craved so badly, for so many years. _It was a dream, it _had_ to be. _But whether it was a dream or not, Hawke was going to enjoy this for as long as she possibly, and think about consequences after.

"Damn it, Fenris, now!" Nothing would stop her this night- she would have him. As soon as possible, if she had anything to say about it. He silenced her orders with a kiss brutal enough to make her lips bleed; Hawke smirked into it. "You're losing your finely tuned control, love," She teased him, without pulling her lips from his.

Fenris smirked into the kiss, trailing his cold, sharp-tipped gauntlets up from her hips, cupping her breasts. "It seems I am not the only one _losing control_," he said to her, as she gasped and pulled away from his mouth to bite his shoulder, stifling her screams as her backed bowed into the bedpost behind her.

"I never claimed to have control when it comes to you, Fenris." Hawke shifted her hips and- Oh, sweet Maker. He was as large as she'd dreamed. Fenris growled at the unexpected entry. He pumped himself into her slowly, waiting for something. Hawke moaned, agonized over the too slow pace. "Faster Fenris, _faster_."

Fenris' jaw clenched and he withdrew from the protesting Hawke. He spun her around, slamming her into the bedpost, holding her there. She wrapped her arms around the post, fearing she would not be able to stand upright without its support. "Not fast Hawke. _Slow_. Slow enough to make up for so many years imagining you. Picturing your perfect-" He ran his gauntleted hands down her back to her ass, and gripped it tight "-_ass_, wishing I could have it writhing under me as I so often dreamed." Hawke whimpered, pushing her ass into him further, searching for friction. The bedpost pushed onto her chest in a nearly painful way. She held onto it tighter.

"And I did dream about this Hawke, more often than I care to admit. I dreamed of your wonderful breasts, of how they would feel cupped in my bare hands," Fenris removed his gauntlets, cupping her breasts gently now. The warmth of his hands compared to the cold of the gauntlets before was excruciatingly wonderful. "Better than I could have imagined- dreaming still of how I would," Fenris nipped at her ear, whispering into it, "_fuck_ your wonderful breasts."

Hawke shuddered at the way he said fuck, just the word feeling to her as a pump of his cock would,"If you keep this up, Fenris, you'll get to fuck more than my breasts."

"Of course Hawke. That is not all I dreamed of putting my cock into." He licked his way down her backed slowly, exploring every gleaming, _wonderful_ inch of her scarred body. She shuddered at his words, coupled with the sensation of his tongue slowly finding its way closer to where she wanted it most. Fenris gripped her thighs, and pulled them apart, and, after exploring the dimples on her back, brought his mouth to the juncture of her thighs.

"Here," Fenris his voice even more gravelly than usual, "Here is where I dreamed of the most. I dreamed of this cunt so often Hawke, so often that if I told you, you would think me a liar. I dreamed of the _scent_ of you, wishing and praying that one day I would be able to get close enough to smell your desire." Fenris put his lips to the back of her thigh, close enough to Hawke's cunny that he could almost taste it, "I dreamed of licking it, Hawke. Of pulling apart these sweet lips and finally getting a taste of heaven. Of tasting you until you screamed, and begged me to stop, until I'd wrung every last bit of pleasure from you." Fenris' nose met her ass, and he finally tasted her, dragging his tongue all the way down her pink slit.

Hawke managed only a quiet moan before convulsing in Fenris' arms. He caught her as her legs gave out, gently placing her on the bed. Her orgasm lasted longer than she'd thought possible, and with Fenris ravenously sucking all the juices he could from her lips, kneeling in front of her, _worshipping_ her, Hawke couldn't help but lay frozen for a time, unable to speak or move. Only able to revel in the moment, and pray that it was not a dream. Pray that Fenris had truly just confessed how much he needed her; Pray that he truly had said those wonderful, wonderful things to her. Pray that he had just given her the most intense orgasm imaginable- all with a few words and his tongue.

"Fenris," Hawke said, her voice cracking as she spoke, "Fenris. I can hardly move." She was trembling.

"I'm not done with you Hawke. I'm a creative man, and all my dreams have yet to come true- I intend to fulfill every one by the time we are through."

"Every one?"

"Every single one." He confirmed, Hawke's body flamed with desire again.

"How many fantasies do you have, Fenris?"

Fenris' dark chuckle was all the answer Hawke got that night.

The end.

_Maybe_.

Author's note! Okay... _Wow_. What... what did I just write? Must be the three french vanillas I had! If you liked it, please review. Also, if you saw anything wrong with my grammar or something that felt choppy about the story please feel free to tell me about it. Thanks for reading!


	2. Alone

** Author's note: Hi again, or for the first time, whichever it may be. So this chapter is different from the last, and much, much shorter. Nevertheless I hope you enjoy and review it for me. Feel free to tell me if I've made any mistakes, or if you notice any inconsistencies! I have not proofread this, and usually I do that a billion times before I am satisfied with a story. Perfectionist syndrome may kill me yet. I don't know if this will be expanded upon again, but know that the reviews that you have given me inspired me to write the second chapter!**

**Anyways, happy reading!**

Chapter 2- Alone

Hawke's dreams were overwhelming her. Every night she dreamed things she could hardly believe her mind had thought up- but then, some of these things she dreamed had been whispered to her on a night she almost didn't believe was real.

The Maker-damned elf that she was so desperately in love with had loved her and left her. But he did not go far. He stayed just outside of her reach, watching her at night, no doubt enjoying the desperate achy moans that came from her when she knew he was there. She held no shame in using every ploy she could in getting her lover back.

He'd been so very chatty that night, telling her how he wanted her, where he would take her. He told her his fantasies, even as he made her come again and again, never letting her up, never giving her the chance to... reciprocate. Every pinch of her breast, every sensual stroke of his tongue, and sweep of his fingers told her another way that he wanted to take her. He never did take her that night.

She'd begged him, and he delighted in it. But not once, after she'd sneakily managed to impale herself upon him, did he enter her again. So that night, each of the wonderful, wonderful, things that Fenris did to her satisfied her every fantasy, and more. He whispered things to her, and so passionate was she that she could only make out murmurings of things she knew would have made her head spin.

When she'd at last fallen upon the bed, begging for a rest, she asked him why he would not allow her to make him come. "It is a night for my fantasies, Hawke, not yours." A night for his fantasies indeed! Not once an action for himself.

"You gave me everything this night, and did not take for yourself, Fenris. Do you not fantasize about me giving you pleasure? Does the image of me sucking on your cock not make you want that?"

"I want that and more, my Hawke. But tonight was only one fantasy for me. Giving pleasure to you, willingly wanting this for another. It is... something that I had only ever dreamed of."

Hawke had wanted to ask more questions, but exhaustion overcame her, and she slept in the glowing warmth of her lover for that night.

And now, years later, things remained at a standstill. Hawke refused to move on, knowing that Fenris wanted her, but was not yet ready for what she needed. So she teased him, hoping to push him along.

Fenris stood in his usual spot, across the way from her window. She knew he could see everything in her room. She could easily close the curtains to shut him out, but then that was the last thing that Hawke wanted.

What Hawke truly wanted was him. She wanted him to be overcome with desire as he had been that night. She wanted him to creep in through that open window and take what she so wanted him to take.

It was unfortunate that Hawke knew that he would not do it. Not that night. Probably not any night soon. Something would have to happen. Something big.

For the time being however, she simply bade her time. And if she could give him a glimpse of what it was that he was denying himself, well then, mores the power to her!

Her elf, she remembered, her elf had kept his gauntlets on at first. Almost as though he was afraid of touching his own skin to hers. The gauntlets had been so cold on her hips, where he had first gripped her. Then down her ass, where they had grown warm. Hawke could almost feel the sharp prickles of the tips of the gloves digging in.

She gripped her own ass, trying to recreate the feel. Fenris had pulled her sheet off then, baring him once again to his gaze. In a moment of confidence, Hawke did the same, knowing that he watched from his perch as always. He'd then slid them up to her breasts, again the tips digging in, giving her the most wonderful pain pleasure. He pinched the tips. She again mimicked his movements from that night.

But from here, she differed from their course that night. From here she slid her hand down her stomach and- ah. Her hips jerked off of the bed, seeking what was not there.

She imagined that it was his hands, the large, calloused hands of her warrior elf, that stroked and teased. His hands weaved their way back and forth, two fingers, sometimes three entering her, and back up again to rub sensuous circles on the most sensitive part of her.

When she came, it was with a muffled scream, she'd turned her head and bitten into the pillow. It did not suppress her scream well enough, she knew. For Fenris' ears were remarkable, and no doubt he'd heard every breath she'd taken, every moan, and every shift of her hips.

Her face remained red long after she'd fallen asleep.

Fenris did _not_ sleep that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: You people who review... you don't know how great it feels to receive reviews telling, no begging, you to continue. I love you guys, seriously. Thank you so much, and know that it is the reviews that keep me going- every time someone asks for more I'm just like... well, I don't wanna be the person who says no to these wonderful people...**

**So thank you to both readers and reviewers, and favoriters, and alert listers- every time I see something like that my heart gets a racin' like Fenris is giving me that wonderful smirk of his.**

**Enjoy this next bit!**

Hawke sighed deeply when she read the missive from her partner, Hubert. There was yet another trouble in the Bone Pit, which of course needed her special services. Rumors of a dragon were flying through Kirkwall, and though Hubert did not believe them, he asked that Hawke check it out. It was of course Hawke who must do this, for Hubert to do anything even remotely dangerous was unthinkable to the Orlesian. Though, Hawke had to admit, picturing Hubert battling a dragon was a most amusing sight.

Hawke made her way to Fenris' mansion, so close to her own. She went straight through the door, there was no need to knock, as Fenris would never answer, and the door was forever left unlatched.

'Fenris,' Hawke called, 'Fenris, are you here?' Hawke heard nothing, and began to worry. There was _something_ in the air that she could not put her finger on, she could feel that there was something about, making her skin tingle. There were few enough reasons that Fenris would not answer her call, one being his death and the other his not being home. His elven ears missed almost nothing, even when he was sleeping. She unsheathed a small dagger she kept strapped to her thigh, hoping for stealth, in case Fenris had been killed- though this was highly unlikely. Hawke did not call out again, unwilling to give any intruder an advance warning.

Isabela would have been proud of how silently Hawke treaded upon the carpet leading to Fenris' bedroom. Hawke checked each door before she passed by, unwilling to be caught unawares, and noticed nothing out of place- twas as messy as it had ever been since Fenris had squatted there. She was glad that he had at least cleaned the bodies out, for at first Fenris had thought to simply leave them where they lie- Hawke had put that notion out of his head immediately. Think of the smell!

Creeping silently, Hawke made her way _painstakingly_ slowly up the stairs and finally approached the door to Fenris' room- the only room in the house that had ever been cleaned. The door was closed, and Hawke put her ear to it, hearing nothing. The slight pressure of Hawke's head resting upon the door forced it open, only a little. Hawke peeked in and saw Fenris' white hair upon his pillow, haloed around his head.

Fenris' jaw was clenched, and his nostrils flared every few seconds or so, and his breathing was heavy. Hawke opened her mouth to call out to Fenris, for she came to the conclusion that he was in terrible pain, when suddenly a thought struck her and made her close her mouth very fast indeed. What if it was not in fact pain that caused Fenris' expressions but... pleasure? The groan that came from Fenris confirmed her thoughts.

Hawke's blush heated her face like a flame, she thought only for a second of backing away and leaving Fenris to his activities, but dismissed the idea when she saw the movement of the blankets, shielding the sight from her. Up and down the blankets moved, rhythmically, enchanting her. Hawke could not pull her eyes away. Fenris was quiet, though the few moans that escaped him made Hawke's breathing quicken. She found herself wishing the blankets were not there, so she might enjoy everything about her elf's private time.

Her wish was granted when a moment later, Fenris' moaning became more frequent and he suddenly tossed the blankets aside, leaving Hawke to drink in all that was Fenris. Her mind scattered, and she had to bite down on her finger to prevent any sort of sounds escaping her. The image would be burned into her brain for her next thousand lives, for it was beyond imagining. Tawny skin was water and Hawke was a very thirsty person indeed, she greedily took it all in, and vowed to herself that none other would be allowed to see this.

His dark skin was contrasted by the lyrium lines that ran through every part of his body- _every_ part. Muscles enveloped in the lyrium lined skin were taught, and well developed, there was no part of Fenris that could ever be found lacking. The scars that dotted his perfection only added to the image, for it was true to any woman that a man who could protect her was a man worth desiring indeed. His elven ears begged to be suckled upon, and his beautiful, intense green eyes were filled with passion. His lips alone could make any woman cry out in want, and had done so to Hawke many more times than she could count. But that which filled Hawke's gaze best was not his eyes, nor his abs, nor the strong thighs she could imagine wrapping her own around at night, nor the arms that could hold her up against the wall while he pounded into her.

No, it was none of those features, though every one of them had starred in a nightly fantasy of Hawke's, and was almost as worthy of her attention. The thing that caught Hawke's attention stood at full attention beneath her gaze. It was partially hidden by the strong calloused hand that stroked it, but Hawke remembered it well, for it starred in every dream she had of Fenris, and was something she desired above all else.

Fenris pumped his cock in a beautiful staccato rhythm, Hawke tuned her breathing to match his pumps. In... out... in... out...

A slow wonderful torturous rhythm that had Hawke nearly falling to her knees in want- nothing but the desire to see more kept her on her feet. Fenris' one hand stroked and teased his cock, paying special attention to the bulbous head which seemed even more sensitive than the rest, while his other hand cupped and stroked that which rested at the very base of him. Hawke imagined that it was she who held him in her hand, she who could take him into her mouth and give him pleasure enough to make his eyes roll into his head. What Hawke did not know was that Fenris imagined much the same thing as he fucked his hand.

Fenris gave himself one very hard quick stroke and groaned out louder than usual. Hawke's eyes darted back and forth between Fenris' hooded eyes, and the cock that pulsated so perfectly in her view.

'Hawke!' Hawke started at the sound of her own name, jumping quite high. She nearly missed the show that Fenris gave her- the whiteness of his seed against his stomach nearly made Hawke pass out where she stood- but it would not do to swoon. Her pleased smile would have embarrassed her, had anyone been there to see it, for it was one of a woman whom had just been pleasured very well.

Hawke's racing heart made her back away from the sight that was nearly unbearable to see- Fenris splayed on his bed, spend on his stomach which was still heaving with his powerful release. She had to leave however, before Fenris regained his senses, for she knew that he would catch her if she gave him time, and Hawke wished to savour the moment.

She emerged from Fenris' home, weak-kneed. As Hawke walked through hightown she realized that she was in no condition to fight a dragon- the wetness that made walking uncomfortable would allow no fighting this day. Hawke found this to be a pleasing thought, and made her way back to her mansion, thoughts of strong thighs and scars racing her heart.


End file.
